


In Three Moons

by GatewayGirl



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Community: merry_smutmas, Cross-Gen, M/M, Post-War, Werewolf, post-HBP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-11
Updated: 2006-12-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 19:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GatewayGirl/pseuds/GatewayGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the last battle, Harry is saved by a group of werewolves. Some of the consequences are unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Moon the first

**Author's Note:**

> Written for elucreh, for merry_smutmas 2006. Thanks to Lore for consulting work on what elucreh would like, and to sociofemme for beta reading.
> 
> Canon-compliancy: Through HBP

It was supposed to be over when Voldemort died, but that wasn't the way it happened. His Death Eaters were still there, fighting more ferociously, if anything; Harry supposed they had nothing to lose, now. His werewolf supporters, the reason he had launched this confrontation tonight, were still roaming the edges of the battle-torn field. Harry could hear their occasional howls, threatening destruction to those who ventured into the cover of the trees. Harry ran that way anyway. His wand had been shattered by the last exchange of hexes, and he was wounded from a cutting hex that had left one side of his robes trailing. Staying out in the open was certain death. If he could make it into the trees, there was some chance that he could work his way around the edge of the field to the healers' well-protected encampment.

A bolt of blue missed him by a hair's breadth, and he dove and rolled and ran on, ignoring a sharp pain in his ankle and the blood staining his shirt. If he lived, both could be fixed.

  


Harry made the cover of the trees and zigzagged between them, trying to keep the largest trunks between himself and his pursuer. He was fairly sure it was only one, now. The chaos of Voldemort's death -- and the random hexes that flew out of the destruction of the twinned wands -- must have covered his retreat. His torn robe caught on branches and underbrush. In a thick patch of something twiggy, it snagged for real, and he wriggled frantically out of it. He was picking up speed and feeling hopeful when the Petrifaction hex hit him. Momentum sent his frozen body tumbling forward and down a slight slope. He ended face up at the edge of a grassy road, staring up at a divided sky, the left side black with trees, the right deep blue with the silver light of the still-ascending moon. The band of trees blocked all of the flashes of spell-light from the battle, and cut its tumult to disconnected, muffled sounds. Harry could distinctly hear the crackle and brush of his pursuer descending the slope.

Suddenly, that progress stopped, first with a wordless cry, then with a thud. Harry's first thought was that someone had killed the man. He would have been holding his breath, had that had any meaning in his current state, as he waited for the silent victor to approach him as friend or foe.

Anticipation faded to frustration, and frustration to boredom. Eventually, it all gave way to _cold._ The sounds of battle were fewer and fainter, but no one came looking for him. He saw a body rise into the air and zoom away above the trees. The thin clouds scudding across the sky began to let down a light drizzle.

_Just my luck. I survive killing Voldemort, only to die of exposure and blood loss._

Movement at the periphery of his vision was immediately welcome. Even when the shape resolved into a wolf, Harry remained resigned. It was a better way to die than freezing, wasn't it? The wolf, however, merely sniffed his wound and moved back out of sight. Harry wondered if he had been recognized. If so, the wolf was on wolfsbane. _Remus said we had other sympathizers among the werewolves ... or this one may just not have approval to kill me himself. Or maybe I just smell burnt._ The thought was shattered by a rising howl from very close, and he was back to actively waiting.

He didn't hear the wolves approach. He first became aware of them when they were close enough that one breathed, warm and moist, on his forehead. That one -- now that he had a basis for comparison, Harry could see that it was lighter than the previous wolf, with what he considered standard markings -- paced down along his side. Like the first, he lowered his snout to sniff at the wound, but he did so far more slowly and deliberately. Harry had time to think _blood _and _man-eater _and _helpless, _before the wolf did a completely unexpected thing. He turned around and lay down, his coarse fur tickling through the large open triangle of Harry's cut shirt and his body very warm against Harry's cold side, and he began to bathe the wound with long, slow licks. Three other wolves arranged themselves around Harry and settled down as well, forming a living fur blanket that nearly covered him. When they were all in place, warming him, the first wolf stopped his licking and settled his head on Harry's shoulder, so his ruff covered the wound.

Harry found himself losing focus. He had the dim thought that having a wound licked by a contagious animal wasn't any better than being bitten, but curses didn't work that way, did they? Even the exposed strip down the center of his body was warmed by radiant heat. He drifted off into unconsciousness.

  


Harry woke abruptly, with the feeling of being suddenly cold. The sky was a predawn grey, and the wolf that had been lying against his right leg was gone, leaving it inadequately covered against the night chill. He wanted to curl up inside the fur pile of the remaining wolves, but he still couldn't move a muscle, even to voice his distress. To make matters worse, the other wolves, even the one that had been so protective the other night, were restless. After shifting several times, the other one on his right stood also. In the growing light, Harry could see that it had average grey wolf coloring, darker on the back, but all shades of grey, like the one on his left that had licked him. Its lofted tail was dark at the tip. In contrast, the wolf by his left legs was darker and browner -- almost black.

The missing wolf, this one a pale cream, trotted back into sight. In his mouth, he held a bundle of sticks -- no, wands. He placed the wands carefully in front of the standing grey and sat back, tongue lolling out. Harry wished he'd lie back down, but instead, the dark one stood up and walked a few steps away. Only the spell was preventing Harry from shaking with cold.

The one wolf remaining stretched out along his body, as if trying to warm him as much as possible. For a minute, Harry thought he _was _shivering, and maybe the spell was wearing off, but then he realized that it was the wolf that which moved in small tremors. With a sudden twitch, the wolf jerked back and rolled away, whining in chorus with the other three. The whining changed to yelps and unearthly howls, which blended to screams and gasps of pain. Through it, Harry lay helpless, seeing only the occasional high-flung limb.

  


"Shit, shit." The voice was familiar, but out of context. As Harry tried to identify it, it weakened. "I couldn't carry clothes."

"Shh. I'll summon them if I have the energy left." That was a woman's voice, and he thought a stranger's.

"Can I have a warming charm, at least?

"Tit! Harry Potter comes first."

"Doesn't he _always."_

The whining tone clicked into place in his memory. Harry might have laughed, had he been able. Malfoy was a werewolf, now? What bitterly ironic justice! The thought became less funny as it sunk in. Harry had watched Voldemort discipline his own, and it was all too easy to imagine Draco being punished, and Fenrir rewarded, in a single sadistic decree.

"Daphne." This voice, though less steady, was immediately familiar, perhaps because Harry knew that Remus Lupin was a werewolf. From his position, Harry suspected Remus was the first wolf who had lain down to warm him. "I'll --"

"Lie back, old man." The woman again. She came over to kneel by Harry, unselfconsciously naked, with the nipples in her scarred, full breasts swollen with chill. "Finite Incantatum."

The petrifaction spell lifted, leaving muscles sore from spending too long still and cold. Harry hissed out a breath and felt the blood start to trickle anew from the gash on his chest. The woman choked out a first aid spell and sagged back panting.

_Right. Even with wolfsbane, the moon is rough on werewolves. _Harry sat up, pulling his knees in to conserve heat, and saw Remus in a defensive ball, naked and shaking. Malfoy had curled around the exhausted woman, his eyes tightly shut. The third man, a stranger in his twenties, seemed stronger and was attempting a Summoning charm. Harry reached over to the two remaining wands.

"The birch," Remus managed.

Harry picked one, and Remus nodded, a jerky, ill-governed movement.

Using another person's wand was frequently awkward, but Remus Lupin's felt smooth and balanced in Harry's hand, and his Patronus slid out like warmed butter. The little stag pawed triumphantly at the air before leaping away to find help. Harry cast warming spells all round before handing the wand to its exhausted owner. By then, clothes were floating unevenly in towards the male stranger. As the werewolves dressed gratefully, Harry forced himself to his feet. He wished he felt bold enough to hold Remus and warm him, but that seemed too awkward now that they were both human.

"Now the real question," the woman said wryly, as she pulled down her jumper. "Is it better to stay or to disappear?"

"Stay," Harry said firmly. "You're all under my protection, now, and that damn well better mean something."

"Something, of course, but enough?" Despite her soft words, the woman moved closer, although Malfoy, now under her arm, required a tug. He was looking at Harry with tired horror.

"I'll protect you," Harry repeated. "And I'll do my best to get you a pardon, Malfoy." He beckoned to Remus, who approached slowly. Remus settled a hand on his shoulder in a way that might look supportive, but from the weight he leaned into it, Harry could tell he was using the contact to stay upright.

"Thanks," Harry said. He lifted a hand to the heavy touch at his shoulder. "All of you," he added, but it was Remus whose hand he clasped in his own.

The weeks that followed were a frantic, unreal mix of celebrations, mourning, and arguments, both public and private in all cases, but all things considered, they went well. The day Remus was pardoned -- his time as a spy having made him an accessory to several crimes -- Harry met him outside the door.

"Welcome back to the real world."

Remus's grip was firm as they shook hands, but his eyes cut from Harry to the Aurors to the crowd, all without quite focusing. Conscious of the cameras aimed at them, Harry nonetheless threw an arm around his old teacher and thumped him on the back, only to feel Remus suddenly holding on with desperate force. "Come back to Hermione's," Harry urged quietly. "There's all sorts of good food and a lot of people waiting to see you."

For several seconds, Remus was silent, still but for a tremor that Harry could only feel, not see.

"Daphne and Craig...." he began finally, stepping back and turning his head. Harry followed his gaze and saw the two werewolves from the night of the battle.

"They can come along," he offered.

  


Hermione was surprised, but welcomed the new guests graciously, and Ron, with a ready grin, nearly took Craig's hand off with a vigorous shake. He was gentler, but no less friendly, with Daphne. The werewolves looked surprised, and Harry shared a glance with Remus, who winked and headed for the kitchen, leaving Harry to follow.

"Could have knocked Daphne over with a feather," he confided, once they were safely over by the window.

"Why? They may never have seen Ron, but Hermione's been helping with the hearings --"

"But that's politics, safely on the other side of the room. They'd never believe me when I said she truly had no prejudice."

Harry rolled his eyes. "They _do _know that we consider you a friend, right?"

Remus looked uneasy. "Do you?"

"Of course! Well...." Harry wasn't certain if Remus had expected to be less than that, or if he was uneasy with being implicitly classified as a peer. He tried to put the complexities in words. "Well, a teacher first, and then ... well, you got paternal on me briefly, because Sirius was pants at it, in retrospect." He still felt disloyal saying that, but it was true. "Great at other things, but..." He shrugged. "Then you were mostly away, but the last few times I saw you, it was more .... I'm an adult now, so yeah, I think 'friend.' I suppose if you'd stayed around, you might be more of an uncle, but you didn't -- couldn't."

_And as things are, looking at you now, I see less an old teacher, and more a kind man whose last few years have been as bad as mine. _

Remus nodded. "You grew up anyway. I approve."

"How can you tell? You've barely seen me."

"Thus my surprise at being considered a friend. Still, I've seen you in public, wielding power with care. I've seen you help Draco, whom you once couldn't look at without blind hate."

"He's still whiny."

Relaxation added grace to Remus's posture, and took years from his face. He smiled. "He is. Daphne likes that image of having a pet, though."

"Are they lovers?"

"Yes." Remus gave him a sly grin. "And so much for werewolf social structures mapping to wolven ones. She's definitely alpha -- a real alpha wolf would have an alpha mate."

"But you do say 'alpha.'" Harry cocked his head, regarding Remus curiously. "What are you? Beta?"

"God no! Sirius was --" Remus stopped himself. "Craig is the beta," he said more quietly. "I'm one of those unranked ones -- not the bottom of the heap, not interested in holding authority."

Harry moved restlessly. There was nowhere he'd rather be than here, talking to Remus and strengthening a connection gone far too tenuous, but the brief mention of Sirius had made him uneasy. "Most people are, I think." He took two rolls from a plate on the table and handed one over. "Here. You look slightly less starved than before your twelve days in prison, and that, in itself, is frightening."

"Yes, mother," Remus joked, but Harry, watching his fingers tear a bite from the roll with eager quickness, didn't take offense. "So -- what have I missed?"

"Don't know what you've heard. Oh -- I found out why the Death Eater who was chasing me suddenly dropped, leaving me to the wolves, as it were."

"Oh?"

"Turns out Snape was on our side, after all, at least in his Slytherin sort of way. He had added time-delayed paralysis and floating effects to the night-vision potion he had brewed for the Death Eaters for the battle. Once it worked, he went to Kingsley Shacklebolt and Accio'ed the lot of them. That was enough to get him a trial."

Remus looked pensive. "Still, Dumbledore...."

"Apparently told him to go ahead and kill him, if it would enhance his credibility. He had decided he was dying. Snape's such a crafty bastard that I wouldn't have believed it if someone saw it with Legilimency, or if he had it in a pensieve. But he knew where Dumbledore had stored a memory, in his office, and there's no way he could get back in there, right? And Hermione said there's no way to make a memory that really looks like it's from someone else. He's offered to take Veritaserum too, but he's so clever with potions that half the Wizengamot is afraid he's invented an antidote, so they recessed the trial for a month, and have him on some sort of magical purification regime." Harry rolled his eyes. "Not exactly flogging and salt, but it's the best I'm going to get. I'll probably have to support his release when it comes up; the evidence is convincing, and Dumbledore would want me to be fair to him."

"You sound so gloomy about it."

"Well, I still can't stand him." Harry tossed his bun in the air and caught it. "Which I'm sure is still entirely mutual."

"But, as I noted before, you're no longer a child." Remus looked away to smile. "Even if you do play with your food. What do you think of Draco's prospects?"

"Fairly good, I'm told."

"Close to none without you."

Harry shrugged. It was true, but not comfortable. "Do you care?"

Remus hesitated. "He came to me for protection. That I later ceded that to Daphne makes him no less...."

"Ah." Harry understood all about people who were under one's protection.

"Yes." Remus looked amused. "Your father would have found that sufficient explanation, as well."

"I am _not _my father."

"No, you're not." Remus studied him for a minute. "But you're like him in certain ways, and used to be more so. I like to think he would have grown up to be like you."

Harry blinked. "But he was older -- a few years --"

"But you've matured more -- partially your life, and partially Lily's spirit coming through." Remus shrugged. "Also, I didn't see much of him after you were born. He may have grown up some as a father, but they were in hiding, and they suspected that I was the spy, you know."

"I don't know how anyone could!"

"I was quiet, and good at keeping secrets," Remus said mildly. "And I had, perhaps, talked a little too stridently in support of werewolf rights, when I was first trying to earn a living, and realizing how hard it would be to survive. James always had money; he believed implicitly in the corruptive dangers of poverty."

"Who did you think it was?"

Remus hesitated. The piece of bun that he had been about to put in his mouth, he worried into two pieces, and then three. "I thought Lily was --"

"My _mum?"_

"Precisely. Recall, I did not realize that _you _were the target; I thought it was James. And Lily had very strong protective instincts as a mother. I thought that if she had been offered safety for _you, _she might betray the rest of us, even him."

"Oh." Harry tried to wrap his mind around that. Remus looked embarrassed.

"I did not want to think that anything that mattered less could tempt any of us. I wanted it to be love wickedly used, not fear or gain."

"I guess I can understand that."

"Good. Now _please _blather about Quidditch or something -- light gossip about your friends, perhaps." Remus focused on him with stark honesty. "I'm utterly sick of the past."

"Well, let me get us something to drink then. We can have a toast to the future."

Remus looked down at the crumbled mess in his hands. "Half a bun won't do?"

Harry hit him, almost gently, on the arm.


	2. Moon the second

Harry put his hand across the top of the beer that Hermione had handed him and turned the glass one quarter turn left. He couldn't drink the beer; it smelled musky. The whole flat smelled strange, and it wasn't like Hermione to leave messes. He wondered if he was getting some sort of flu.

"Harry? You there, mate?"

Harry flinched. "Sorry. Just thinking."

With an exasperated sigh, Hermione sat next to Ron. "Remus has been managing full moons since before you were born, Harry. He'll be fine."

"Yeah." Harry gave up on fiddling with the beer. The more he moved it, the more scent it gave off. "Still, I wish he'd let me stay with him. He's on Wolfsbane potion. There's no reason I can't."

"Just because it's safe doesn't mean he wants to be seen that way."

"He let my father see him that way! _I _saw him that way last moon."

"But that was necessity."

"I know. Just...." Harry couldn't think what to say. Ron covered for the awkward pause by re-entering the conversation.

"You've been getting along with those werewolves, haven't you?"

"I suppose." For some reason he couldn't pin down, Harry found himself drawn to the werewolves whenever they were present at a gathering he attended. He wasn't sure that Malfoy would have tolerated that if it wasn't for Daphne, but she treated him as a peer, in an oddly formal way, as if they were leaders of allied countries. The five of them would stand and chat for a few minutes, and then she would excuse herself and Malfoy, Craig would wander away to make friends, which he did quite readily, and Remus and Harry would withdraw someplace more private and talk. Harry enjoyed the last part most. He didn't think that there was any question that they were friends, now.

"Are they a pack?" Ron asked. "Remus doesn't seem like that much of a _wolf, _if you know what I mean."

"Ron!" Hermione scolded. "It's his social group, that's all."

Harry wasn't sure that was quite true. "Pack" seemed appropriate, since Remus called Daphne the alpha. On the other hand, Remus had implied that his father was alpha of the Marauders, so perhaps that said more about how Remus thought of groups of people than of the social structure of the werewolves. "They are a pack, just the same," he said, "but like the Marauders were. Still, he's not spending tonight with them."

"And if he's not spending it with them, you certainly can't expect him to spend it with you!" Hermione said triumphantly.

"I suppose."

"So, what's the worry, mate?"

"Remus was odd on Wednesday. Like I'd offended him, or something, or like I was suddenly a kid. I'd asked him about his wolf form licking my wound clean --"

"Harry, I've told you, it has to be _violent _to transmit the curse. You're applying Muggle rules to a magical disease, and the logic is really distinct when --"

A slow surge of feeling, like a potion taking effect, bloomed in Harry's head and flowed out to every other part of his body. The light in the room flared. It was so disorienting that he cried out.

"Harry!"

Harry covered his ears at the sudden onslaught of sound, and curled forwards, eyes shut tight. Voices babbled, hands caught at his arm, and it felt so much like a hangover that he was expecting the room to swim when he opened his eyes, but it was just bright and strange looking.

"Harry?"

Turning to Hermione, Harry's first thought was that there was a mist around her. He shook his head with irritation and blinked his eyes. The brightness was receding, but she still looked grey, as if he'd fallen into an old photograph. The smell of beer had worsened -- he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to drink beer again -- but now he could also smell the charred wood from last night's fire, and Hermione, clinging to him, smelled like _girl, _and of something flat over that, which might be _fear. _

"Harry," Ron said with artificial steadiness, "say something."

"I ..." Harry was slightly surprised that the sound came out normally. He shifted slightly, just a ripple of motion down his limbs to make sure they were still under his control. He looked down and saw a normal arm -- normal but for the lack of blue in the sleeve of his blue shirt -- with Hermione's fingers pressed along the curve of it. "I think the moon rose." _I wonder if this is how a wolf sees?_

"You're not a wolf." Ron sounded uncertain. Harry turned his head to look directly at him, and Ron flinched back.

"No, but I'm not normal, either." He wrinkled his nose. "I had no idea that the world was so smelly."

Hermione got to her feet. "You don't feel inclined to attack us, I gather?"

"No." Harry rose also, and shifted back, trying to get Ron more at his side and less at his back. _More like running away._ "I ... I need to get to Remus."

After studying him for a moment, Hermione nodded. "Remus, then. Let me find you some sunglasses first."

"Sunglasses? It's night."

"Your eyes are the wrong color, and not even a human shape. You probably shouldn't be seen like that, or you'll be asked questions that we don't have the answers to, yet."

  


Remus-the-wolf was pacing his living room, not a mindless beast, but clearly not at ease. When Harry entered, he attempted to look menacing, lowering his head and baring his teeth, but as Harry continued to walk forward, he drooped.

"Hi, Remus ... Moony." Harry wasn't sure he would have been able to do this before last moon. As it was, he approached Remus slowly, careful to not look aggressive. To his benefit, the scent of wolf was oddly calming. "Sorry. I had to come. I felt the moon rise, you see." The wolf was directly in front of him, now, but turned slightly sideways. Harry reached out his hand and hesitated with it just above that coarse-looking fur. _It was warm. I remember warmth. _When Remus whined and leaned against him, his hand descended of its own accord. The long, thick fur was softer near the skin. In the release of tension, Harry sank to the floor and sat there, leaning back against the side of the couch.

He watched the wolf. _Why aren't I a wolf? He clearly passed on something to me -- not the full curse, but something. I've never heard of anything like that, and apparently Hermione hasn't either. _As Harry was thinking, the wolf whined again and lay beside him, his head on Harry's knee. Harry stroked behind his ears and turned to wondering what it would have been like to grow up with a dog around. Of course, this wasn't really like a dog, even a big, dangerous dog, because Remus could understand him, and if he told him secrets, would be able to repeat them after moonset. It took him a moment to realize that he had thought this without missing Sirius, and then, of course, he missed Sirius. Without thinking, he said so aloud, and the wolf pressed his head down and let out a soft huff of breath.

"Yes, I expect you do too," Harry said softly.

That sat for a while, until it started to feel normal to have a great wolf with its heavy jaw resting on his thigh. Harry was just wondering how to best say that he needed to stretch out his leg when the wolf got to his feet, crossed the room, and stood by the front door, looking expectantly back.

Harry stood unsteadily, waiting for the blood to start moving in his foot, again. "Really? You want to go outside?"

The wolf stretched up along the door in unmistakable agreement. Harry winced at the scrape of claws in the wood. The marks left were above his eye level.

"All right," he agreed. "You seem sane enough." And with that, he opened the door, and they stepped out into the black and silver night.

The world outside smelled better -- and more interesting -- than the house. Harry couldn't keep up with the wolf, but he could run faster than he would have expected to. He had no trouble seeing the thin branches that stretched into their path. Moony would run ahead, and then cut back, and he never got so far away that Harry couldn't hear him.

He was starting to get cold when the wolf led him out of the woods and into the back garden of Remus's little cottage. A quick opening charm, and they were back in the cozy sitting room. Harry built up the banked fire, stretched out on the rug to watch it, and promptly fell asleep.

  


When he woke, it was to the repressed sounds of pain. The low fire swam in front of his eyes as it filled with color again, and although the smoke was still acrid in his nose and lungs, it was less overwhelming with each breath. He rolled over and levered his upper body up to look around.

Remus was curled up in a ball, clutching at his legs. Naked, his body was almost gaunt. Harry could see a raised white scar angling over the parallel ridges of several ribs. Moved by some basic impulse, he shifted forward and wrapped an arm around Remus.

"Shh," he soothed at the strangled sound that Remus made at this contact. "It's all right. I'll take care of you."

Awkwardly, Remus reached up, groping towards the sofa. Seeing a dressing gown draped there, Harry sat up and grabbed it. He pulled the thin garment down, and helped Remus tuck it around himself.

"Just -- I need bed -- _sleep --_ that's all."

"I can do that," Harry answered. "Lie still." Knowing how disorienting it was to be floated, he placed a hand under Remus as his Mobilicorpus charm floated him into the air. Carefully, he navigated them down the corridor and into Remus's bedroom. The bed was neatly made. As he pulled the covers back, Harry started to scan the row of vials lined up neatly on the bedside table for a pain potion, but when he recognized the first as a common lubricant, pretended to not have noticed them instead.

"May I cast a charm for pain?" he asked. "It doesn't interfere, does it?"

Remus shook his head, which was now all of him that was visible, except for the tips of four fingers, where his hand clutched the duvet. "No. Please do."

"I think it's more effective with exposed skin."

"I'm cold. It will work. "

"'kay." Harry cast the charm he knew best. Remus did seem to relax slightly, but he was still holding on to the duvet desperately, and he turned on his side as if trying to conserve heat. Harry lay down behind him again, curling an arm over his chest.

"Harry...."

His senses were nearly back to normal, but not quite. Remus was giving off a noticeable scent -- one that Harry couldn't remember picking up from the wolf, or even right after the change. He shifted closer, wanting to take in more of it. After all, he needed to figure out what it was. Remus was holding himself unnaturally still.

"You kept me warm, right?"

"Yes, but ..." Remus hesitated. "I'm ... sensitive, after the change. Er, to pressure. I'd rather not be touched."

"Oh!" Harry moved away and sat up again, his feet hanging off the edge of the bed. "Sorry." It suddenly penetrated that he was not usually this physical. _It must be a holdover from the moon._ He laughed nervously. "Stupid of me, anyway. I can cast a charm for that, can't I?" Quickly, he cast a warming charm. Remus relaxed, but didn't throw off the duvet.

"Shall I .... Do you want me to leave?"

"Yes!" Remus winced. "The room, I mean. You can sleep here, if you're tired, but I'd like to be alone, please."

Harry couldn't have said why he felt disappointed. There was no reason for him to stay in the room. Perhaps it was the mystery; he thought he might understand that scent at any moment, but the added sense had faded enough that he couldn't even pick it up once he stood.

"All right. We can talk when you've rested." _And maybe then, we'll both make more sense._

  


When Harry woke again, he was lying on the sofa, his senses were normal, and he could hear faint sounds from the kitchen. He sat up, and amended _normal._ He felt like he had a bad head cold. His nose and mouth and throat and ears all hurt. Even the area behind his eyes ached, with a feeling that resembled the after-effects of a truly excessive night of drinking. Furthermore, his legs were sore from running in the woods. He stood, wobbling slightly, and went to investigate the kitchen.

 

"Morning." Remus, not surprisingly, looked worse than Harry felt. He raised his hand to cut off any reprimand from Harry. "I know I should be in bed, but I can't sleep. Sometimes it's better to sit in the kitchen for an hour than to lie in bed for several of them, with your brain churning." As he spoke, he sat down at the table. "I made tea. There are cups on the shelf, there."

Harry examined the selection. He felt uncomfortable about using a "Brilliant Teacher!" mug, and picked up the one next to it which he thought was plain black, except where chips bared the white under the glaze. On the other side, it turned out to say "DARK CREATURE (may be placated with TEA)."

"Sirius thought it was funny," Remus volunteered. "I have a tin which says the same thing, but with chocolate, instead of tea."

From the look of the mug, Harry thought that must have been Sirius before Azkaban. Shrugging, he brought the mug with him and sat down. As soon as he had poured his tea, Remus cleared his throat.

"So, Harry... why are you here? I gather there was some reason beyond waiting until I couldn't throw you out?"

Harry shrugged. He hadn't really explained anything the night before, after saying that he had felt the moon rise. His head ached. "Apparently, biting isn't as necessary as you thought."

Remus stiffened. "You were human."

"Mostly." Harry bit his lip. "And I didn't want to kill them -- Ron and Hermione, I mean -- I was with them when the moon rose. But your licking must have transmitted something. Everything was smelly and loud and bright and mostly colorless -- like by moonlight. And I think I had more endurance than usual -- we must have been roaming around most of the night. And it all hurts, now."

"Dear god." Remus shuddered. "Harry, I'm sorry! You were injured; it was instinct. Even with the wolfsbane...."

"It's _okay. _Except for the headache I have now, it was nothing bad. I expect that once I'm used to the change, people won't even be able to tell." He grinned, remembering Hermione's reaction and his own look in the mirror. "Well, as long as I have sunglasses. I had wolf eyes."

"There hasn't been proper testing, of course," Remus muttered, as if reviewing notes, "but the curse _should_ require violence. Perhaps since you had been wounded in violence...."

Harry had been thinking about this while they roamed the forest. "Maybe, but the contact was sort of the _opposite _of violence, wasn't it? You were trying to heal me, wolf-style. I think you kind of turned it around, and transmitted the curse as a blessing."

Remus looked startled for a moment, but then snorted. "Won't be a blessing if the papers get wind of it."

"Seems likely. I'm going to keep it a secret for now."

  


After he left the cottage, Harry didn't see Remus for nearly three weeks. He tried Flooing more than once, ostensibly to ask some questions about symptoms around the change, but Remus was out or too busy to talk. Harry had few opportunities to make the attempt, as Hermione had managed, somehow, to drag him into brokering causes with the altered Ministry.

It was one of those causes -- Ministry-subsidized wolfsbane for low-income werewolves -- that finally brought him back together with Remus. From the look on the man's face as he lingered near the wall at the lobbying gathering, Harry suspected that he wasn't comfortable in this environment either.

He approached, if not exactly stealthily,_ inconspicuously, _until he was too close to be ignored.

"Remus! How have you been?"

Remus jumped almost guiltily before turning to greet him. "Harry. What a pleasant surprise."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the stock greeting. "What, it isn't obvious that even if I didn't support this -- which I _do _\-- that Hermione would rope me into it?"

"Well, I ...." Remus grimaced. "Sorry. I feel similarly obligated, and I expect similarly unattracted to the experience." He gave Harry a pat on the back, but then, with a visible twitch, pulled away again. Harry tried not to feel insulted.

"I ... Look, I'd really like to talk, and someplace a bit more private than here. Come home with me after it ends?"

Remus looked positively alarmed for a moment, before his expression steadied into polite regret. "I'm afraid I can't. I've been feeling a bit under the weather, and I'd rather --"

"Then come for a walk in the garden with me."

"No!" Remus rubbed a hand across his eyes as Harry scowled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean -- I'm not up to company, right now--"

"As if you ever are," Daphne said cheerily, as she and Malfoy joined them. She nodded graciously at Harry. "Good evening, Harry."

"Good evening, Daphne. Made any progress tonight?"

"A possibly productive conversation with Nicholas Finebrittel. He started out on guard, and relaxed to merely neutral, but his wife moved from nearly hiding behind him to genuine sympathy -- she actually touched my arm, at one point -- and I think she'll work on him at home. And you?"

"Endlessly repeating that if we reduce the werewolf threat to only those werewolves that intend harm as people, it will be a substantial improvement."

"I made an unexpected gain with Cartsbane," Remus contributed.

"Cartsbane?" Harry exclaimed.

"But he favors killing werewolves!" Malfoy shrugged as they all looked at him. "Not in so many words, in public, but I've heard him in private."

Remus shrugged. "I suspected as much. No, I pointed out that with universal wolfsbane, any crimes committed by werewolves during the moon -- at least after their first moon -- could be considered deliberate. He clearly liked that idea."

Malfoy laughed. "Are you sure you were a Gryffindor? That's quite crafty."

Harry glanced around. Unless someone was using a spying spell, they were out of earshot of anyone. "He's rather good at avoidance, too. I was _hoping _to make plans for next moon."

Remus shifted back. "Yes, you should. Perhaps we could all get together?"

Daphne frowned. "Sorry, but no. I'm not comfortable having a possibly infectable human present. "

Harry looked questioningly at her. "You realize my position?" He had given Remus permission to tell her.

"Yes, but it is unclear if that makes you immune. Without intent, one of us might still harm you, in any case. Remus, being emotionally closer, is less likely to lose track of you. Even with wolfsbane, the sensory input can be distracting -- you may have some idea, on that."

Harry didn't object. He had never intended to spend the moon with all of them; he would far rather be with just Remus. He looked pointedly at him. "Do you agree? You said before that I should be with --"

"Yes, yes, I know! You can visit, but this _isn't _the place to discuss it."

"You wouldn't come away."

"I'm not feeling well," Remus retorted. "Speaking of which, I'm going to Floo home now. All I'll do here is convince people that werewolves are just as unbalanced as they thought. Have a pleasant evening, all of you."

With that, he departed. Harry looked questioningly at Daphne, but she seemed as mystified as he was.


	3. Moon the third

As the full moon approached, a deep and constant tension came with it. Harry wasn't sure to what extent it was anticipation and uncertainty, and to what extent it was the moon itself. The evening before, he suddenly started to notice scents -- the grass in the park, cooking in the houses he was passing -- and at first thought that it was his imagination. When he looked up at the clock by the refreshments stand, he realized that the moon had just risen, and was less certain. He needed to ask Remus, he thought, if anything happened to _him _the day before, but the truth was that Remus was continuing to make it difficult to ask him anything.

He was still wondering what he had done to drive Remus away, and how he could fix it, and if, perhaps, he should screw up his Gryffindor courage and ask outright, when a thunder of running footsteps slowed at his side. Harry shifted defensively to face the newcomer, but it was only Ron.

"H'lo, mate. Look, I just talked to Hermione, and you're coming out with me tonight."

"I'm not sure --"

"Well, I am. Look, I know you're worried about tomorrow -- anyone with half a brain can tell that. You need to forget about it, and I know just the thing." Ron flashed him a confident smile and slapped him on the shoulder. "Go eat, right? -- And I'll come by your flat at eight sharp. Normal clothes." Without waiting for a reply, Ron jogged off again, the reflective strips on the genuine Muggle trainers that Hermione had bought him shining in the failing light.

  


Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but a strip club wasn't it. He didn't feel any better when Ron assured him that it was all right with Hermione, and he flinched back when he stepped through the door. Ron had to push him from behind.

"What is _wrong _with you? I thought you were just solitary, not prissy!"

Harry let himself be maneuvered to a table with a view. The girl on the stage was beautiful, and far more athletic than he would ever have dreamed, but that didn't keep everything else from overwhelming her. The room was raucously noisy, and it reeked of beer, and some girl thing, and.... He drew himself up straight and sniffed at the air, distaste turned suddenly to curiosity. Not _Remus, _but the scent that had overlaid Remus's own, when Harry was settling him into bed. He looked at Ron.

"It smells."

"Yeah, it's, um..." Ron reddened. "Well, you know, there's beer, but I think the rest is just a lot of men, y'know, _wanting _her." He gestured to the stage, where the girl was now shimmying up a vertical pole. As Harry watched, she turned upside down, hanging on with only her legs while her torso continued to move to the music. The sight distracted him.

"How is that _possible? _Shouldn't she be in the Olympics, or something?"

"Harry! _Look _at her!"

"I am. She's really pretty. But _I _couldn't hang from a pole like that."

"Yeah, well you're not 'pretty' either."

_But I apparently turn Remus on, _Harry thought bemusedly. _Or something else did while I was there. _

That was sort of ... _weird. _He vaguely watched the new girl on stage while he thought about it. She was even prettier than the last one, but her taste in music was horrible and she didn't do anything impressive with the pole, just curled one leg around it and rubbed. _I wonder if he's been attracted to me before? Of course.... _Remembering how he had curled up close to Remus, one arm wrapped around him, Harry blushed. _God. Or it could be how I was behaving, that morning. I just felt so physical. No wonder he doesn't want to be alone with me. He's probably afraid I'll jump him._

Two girls later, it occurred to Harry that perhaps the problem was that _Remus _wanted to jump_ him,_ and he brightened. After all, that was better than not being trusted. A hand moved up and down in front of his face.

"Huh?" The blaring music had been replaced by rather quieter old rock, and the room was a little brighter. After looking around for a moment, Harry noticed there was no one on stage.

"Is it closing time?"

Ron slapped his forehead with one hand. "No! Harry, it's not even ten o'clock! It's a break."

"Oh. Okay." Harry looked down and noticed that he had a beer. It was full. When he tried a sip of it, he remembered why.

"Have you seen _any_ of this?"

"Um, sure. There was the impressive girl in blue, and then the boring one in the feathers, and then, um, one with a cowboy hat and tassels....

"And your mind's been on the moon."

Harry twitched before realizing how innocuous that statement would sound to anyone who didn't worry about werewolves.

"Yeah, well.... I've been thinking about Remus."

Ron threw his hands up, nearly upsetting the tray of a waitress behind them. "I give up! I'm going to have a good time; you can stay or not, as you please."

Harry shrugged, and pushed the full glass at him.

"Yeah, well, the beer tastes like piss, and I don't want any, so why don't I stay, and I'll see to it that you get home in one piece, okay?"

"Fine." Ron muttered something that sounded suspiciously like "unappreciative prat," but Harry ignored him. Remus wasn't angry at him; he _wanted _him. Despite being weird, that was starting to sound pretty good.

  


The high moon shone off the windowsill and made the curtains glow. Harry stared at them as he lay, sleepless, in bed, trying to make what he knew fit together. When he had lain down with Remus, Remus had responded with hidden lust, and since then, Remus had avoided being alone with him. So, was the problem that Remus wanted him and was afraid he'd be offended? he wondered. Or that he wanted him and felt guilty about it? Or maybe he'd just wanted him at that single moment -- he _had _said he was sensitive, after the moon. _In that case, though, there wouldn't be any reason for him to avoid being alone with me -- unless he thought I knew, and was afraid I'd use that, somehow. _

That was a worrisome thought. Harry wanted to think that Remus trusted him more than that. _But he doesn't completely, or he wouldn't worry about how I'd react._

Though, after all, how would he react? Harry wasn't sure he knew. It was fine with him in theory; any tendency that he might have developed to be repulsed by homosexuality had been thoroughly destroyed by Dudley's loud and sniggering disgust and boasting threats of assault. Inevitably, Harry felt some amount of kinship for any group that Dudley regarded as prey. Nonetheless, how he would react if Remus, specifically -- an older man and former mentor -- showed that he wanted _him, specifically, _was hardly covered by some vague feeling that attraction between men might be no more disgusting than getting sparks out of a wand.

_Oh, and that was an inappropriate comparison -- or too appropriate._

He tried to imagine Remus telling him. _Harry, I'm sorry I've been avoiding you. Things have become ... complicated. _He couldn't picture it. Remus wasn't that forthright -- not when he was unsure of his reception.

He remembered lying behind Remus, one arm around him. Remus could have shifted closer. He pictured that, and himself trying to breath in that enticing scent without actually nuzzling at Remus's neck.

Remus, in his fantasy, lifted the covers. _You must be cold, Harry. Come warm up._

He moved close again, now without the thick covers in the way, and his hand slid further down, until the side of it bumped against the wet tip of a hard cock. Remus froze. Slowly, Harry slid his fingers over it, curling them around to grip gently.

_All right?_

Remus nodded silently. The way he pressed back against Harry was more of an answer.

At this point in the fantasy, Harry was naked. He momentarily tried to think of a reason, and then decided to just ignore the incongruity, as he was ignoring that he was pulling on his own cock, not someone else's, and that he had no idea how it would actually feel to have Remus rubbing up against him. The one time he had actually taken his clothes off with Ginny, they had been following up on a decision to go all the way before he took off again, and they had got right to it with very little intermediary action.

He shook off the thought of that as well, and went back to imagining Remus panting under his touch.

_Warm?_

_Hot._

_Yeah. You are._

Remus moved in little pulses, wordlessly urging him to go faster, and Harry obliged.

_God, yes!_ Remus gasped. _Want you._

And just like that, at the mere thought of the words, he was coming hard, near paralyzed and blinded beneath the tidal wave of orgasm. In long, pure seconds, his body relaxed, until he was lying limp on the sheets.

"Remus," he murmured.

He slept.

  


Against all reason, Harry woke early the next morning. He ought, he supposed, to feel guilty, or at least confused, but it was more a combination of anxiety and excitement that made him miss his mug on the first attempt to pour tea, and then add sugar to the replacement cup twice. He worried about his suppositions. What if he was reading this all wrong? What if Remus had been attracted to him only momentarily, and simply been upset about it since? What if Remus had actually been thinking of something else, and it had never had anything to do with him in the first place? What if Remus _did _want him, but was going to refuse him because he was James's son, or young, or inexperienced?

He wished he knew someone who was gay. He might at least be able to get enough information to fake experience until he had some. If he did, though, they hadn't admitted it. Ron _thought _Charlie was gay, but Charlie had never let on anything about his love life, if any. He might have some weird flame fetish that didn't involve people at all, rather than the male lovers that Ron suspected.

Harry set down his tea. After all, Ron was never going to ask. It would be doing him a favor to find out.

Ten minutes later, he Apparated to the dragon preserve.

  


Charlie was leaning against a clear section of the thick stone wall, watching two dragons ... something. Harry wasn't quite sure _what _the creatures were doing. It involved a lot of rearing up and ducking down and extending wings, but whether it was dominance, courtship, or an elaborate "how's life?" he had no idea. Rather like people, actually.

"Charlie!" he called, and when Charlie whipped around, panic clear on his face, Harry smiled openly, as if he hadn't noticed the reaction. He did the same himself, sometimes. Ginny had dropped by his flat, unannounced, the other day, and the first words out of his mouth had been "what's wrong?"

"Harry." Charlie stepped forward and greeted him cordially enough, grasping his hand and slapping his shoulder with careless force. He had a muscled, compact body that couldn't have been less like Ron's, but confusion drew his eyebrows down in just the same way. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting?" Harry said tentatively. He really shouldn't, he thought, act on impulse before breakfast. What on earth could he say? "Er, I have a rather personal question. Or maybe a -- Well. Don't be offended?"

The eyebrows lifted now, in an expression more like Bill than like Ron. "I'm hard to offend, I'm told," Charlie said cheerily. "Go on."

Harry could feel his face burning.

"I ... Ron thinks you're gay," he blurted out. Mortifyingly, Charlie choked, and then burst out laughing.

"Does he, now?"

"Because, you know, you never...."

"Perhaps I enjoy my privacy."

"Sorry."

"Did he put you up to this?" Charlie demanded.

"What? No. Um, I didn't tell him. I was just wondering if I knew anyone...." Harry wondered if could Obliviate Charlie without hurting him any.

"Ah." Charlie softened somehow, with the sound. "If it helps," he offered, "some of my lovers have been men."

"Oh."

"Sit down, Harry. I've seen you look calmer going into battle." Charlie took Harry's arm and steered him a few steps to a low boulder and sat down with him. "Now," he said, "what I tend to like is strong and rough and carelessly bold. There've been two women on the list, but more men suit, if you know what I mean. So if you had designs on me...."

"No. I ... you're no more my type than it sounds like I'd be yours."

Charlie grinned. "Well, you're bold enough -- usually -- but yes." He nudged Harry. "Who's the bloke, then?"

"None of your business!"

Charlie laughed, and Harry realized that had been as good as a confession, and he grinned back. "He seems to really want me, but I'm afraid that if he realizes I have _no _experience, he'll bolt."

"Ah. Older, then."

"A bit." _A bit over twice my age, that is. _

"So do you want --" Charlie leered at him. "-- experience?"

"God, no! No, I just want enough information to fake it until it's too late."

"You don't have the vaguest idea what men _do, _do you?"

"None!" Charlie was amazing, Harry thought, in being able to make that funny, rather than insulting. "I mean, I just had one of those really vague fantasies, you know, where your mind doesn't know what to fill in, just 'and something intense happens here', like before you've ever had a girl's clothes off, and don't quite know what it will feel like, touching her?"

Charlie laughed. "Well, you should be better off with a man, for that."

"Well, yes, but with a girl, I at least know that I'm supposed to stick it in to her, and I should be able to do it facing her, because people claim to be able to kiss at the same time."

Charlie, still grinning like a maniac, rubbed his forehead. "Harry ... have you ever had sex with anyone?"

"Um, yeah. Once." Harry looked at him nervously. "Ginny wanted to."

"Ah." Charlie settled, but didn't look upset. "And did it ... clarify things?"

"A little. It was kind of fast. We didn't want to get caught."

"And it was in the dark."

"Yes." Harry hoped Charlie wasn't angry at him. "I don't think she enjoyed it much, but I couldn't ask."

"Understood." Charlie shrugged. "It sounds rather typical, actually. First times are wildly over-rated." For a moment, he stared at the distant slopes, apparently lost in thought, but then he shook himself and looked back at Harry. "So. You want this man, but have no idea what your options are for getting both of you off, is that the problem?"

"Pretty much."

"All right, then." Charlie stood up and dusted off his dragonhide breeches. "I think this calls for Kelly's collection of porn mags. Follow me." He glanced back over his shoulder. "Come on, now! I'll stick to the mild ones."

  


Harry decided he would show up to Remus's place early, with enough time before moonrise to make his move -- whatever seemed appropriate once he was there -- but not so much time that the awkwardness could congeal between them if he was wrong.

Uncomfortably aware that he returned from the dragon preserve with his own scent broadcasting "Hi -- wanna fuck?" he spent an hour flying, and then cleaned the living room, something he had previously done only for company, in an attempt to calm raging desire down to a politer level of interest.

Mindful of last moon's activities, he wore sturdy jeans and a denim jacket to protect himself from branches, and comfortable trainers for a night on his feet. He chose the same shirt that he'd worn last time, even though it was an old T-shirt, worn thin. There wasn't anything sexy about it, as far as he could see, but perhaps Remus liked it.

He Apparated in, nervous and uncomfortably aware of his own persistent lust scent. With a clatter, Remus darted in from the kitchen and then stopped abruptly, staring at Harry over his wand.

"You're early."

"I wanted to see you." As Remus tucked the wand away, Harry walked closer. When he was a few steps away, Remus's nostrils flared for a moment, and then his eyes closed. Harry stopped within arms' reach.

"Harry...." Remus didn't seem to know what to say. His eyes opened, but Harry could see him shaking. Tellingly, the scent from last moon was rising again.

"I had a question."

Harry stepped intimately close, and when Remus tried to step back, caught at his arms. Remus did not pull away, only stood there, trembling under Harry's hands. "Yes?" he asked, his voice strangled.

"Do your senses rise before the moon?" Daringly, Harry set his face against Remus's neck and nuzzled, inhaling the scent there. Remus made a slight sound that could only be described as a whimper. "You want me, don't you?" Reluctantly, Harry lifted his head to look Remus in the eyes. "You smell of it. It smells good."

With a hoarse cry, Remus descended on his mouth, taking it in a fierce kiss. Harry found himself pushed against the back of the couch, and for a moment he thought they would go at it right then, but Remus kept his hands fisted in Harry's shirt, and after a few minutes, recovered enough control to step back.

"Tease," he panted. "It's too close -- the moon will rise in minutes."

"Sorry --"

"Which gives you all night to think better of it. I'm warning you -- break through my restraint, and it's _gone." _In two backwards steps, he moved out of reach. "I'm going to my room to undress, now. Consider your position."

After a moment's lustful stare, he turned and left the room. Harry suspected he was supposed to feel menaced, but instead he was left taut with anticipation. Moonset felt like _years_ away.

  


The night, however, passed quickly. Harry's desire was banked by the steady animal presence of the wolf, and their night run sent him straight into exhaustion, so once again, he slept solidly upon their return. Again, he woke to sounds of pain, and again, he instinctively curled around Remus, warming and comforting him for a moment before casting a Pain Abatement charm.

"Thank you." Remus looked at him in gratitude for several seconds, but then his eyes flicked uncertainly away.

"No problem. I'll get you settled in bed again, shall I?"

As Remus closed his eyes, a trace of a smile crossed his face. "I _can _walk, Harry."

"I know." Harry floated Remus into the bedroom and folded back the covers before settling him down. With more contact than was necessary, he dragged the covers slowly up his body, letting the side of his hand stroke along skin. It was nowhere that he would have hesitated to touch Remus before, if he had a reason, but now, even that slight contact excited him. Remus was breathing audibly under the touch.

"Harry." The word was rough with strain, a reminder of the ordeal that Remus had just been through, but Harry could still hear the humor in it. "Haven't thought better of playing with wolves?"

Harry left the covers where they were, deliberately extending his fingers and sliding them across Remus's chest to pull him possessively closer. "Not wolves, Remus. _You." _

"Damn it, Harry, I'm trying to keep this light! I'm exhausted, you're perfect, and I already love you. I could go head over heels if you don't back off, and you're young, James's _son, _for God's sake...!"

Harry couldn't help feeling delighted at this rather hysterical string of objections, none of which implied any reservations about _him. _The tip of Remus's collarbone looked too prominent, so he leaned forward and left a soft kiss there.

"Would he be angry at you, do you think? My dad?"

Remus let out a strangled moan. "The prat would probably laugh himself silly and call me a prissy little prefect."

Harry nodded. "Quite right. I'll have to see if I can loosen you up." He shifted down to kiss one tiny nipple, and then paused to run his tongue around it. Remus arched up for a moment, but then collapsed back.

"Harry ... the change. I can barely move."

"'S'alright." Harry moved down. Remus might be exhausted from the moon, but that wasn't stopping his body from responding. The tip of his cock reached up his abdomen, and a drop of moisture welled at the tip, just like in Harry's fantasy. He lowered his mouth to it quickly, afraid of losing his nerve. At the first touch of his tongue, Remus cried out.

"Why -- God, Harry!"

Harry wasn't sure he _needed_ Remus to move. He felt about ready to explode just from having Remus there, under his mouth, making desperate noises. He shifted forward, rubbing his erection along Remus's leg, just in case the other man had failed to notice the effect he was having, and lifted his head briefly.

"I'm making sure you can't convince yourself that you misunderstood. Lie still. I don't need you to do anything to me, and I don't believe you'd be able to sleep if I stopped."

With that, he started sucking Remus in earnest. It was much more enjoyable than he expected, and he couldn't seem to stop himself from rocking his hips forward every time he dipped his head.

"God, you're so hot, Harry." Remus said softly. "Humping the mattress like that -- you really _want_ it, don't you? Give me a day, and I'll keep you in bed until you're the one who can't move. Want you so much. Haven't been able to _look _at you without wanting to slide your clothes off and see what you'd let me touch, if you'd let me get you off, and we're right there in the damn Minister's Ballroom, and you keep moving closer, and asking me to come places where I _could...._"

Harry imagined that -- Remus, in the formal garden, pulling him into a shadow, sliding a hand up his leg to grope him through his robes, and then starting to undo the layers of formal clothing. The babble of desire was as arousing as any stroke of his own hand could be, and Harry was alarmed to feel his balls tightening already. Before he could think what to do, however, his mouth was flooding with thick semen. He swallowed reflexively, surprised at how bitter the taste was in the back of his mouth, when the precome had been so pleasant on the tip of his tongue. He coughed.

"Sorry -- I should have warned you," Remus yawned. "Didn't think I _could _be that fast. You've had me so worked up...."

Harry left him asleep and tossed off in the living room.

  


Harry flooed Hermione and Ron to let them know he was okay, but he didn't leave the cottage, even though Remus was out of milk. He didn't dare. It seemed to him now that what Remus might think when he woke and what he might think after an hour to consider matters on his own could be very different things. He needed to be there. This moon, Remus seemed to have no trouble sleeping, which was both reassuring and nerve-wracking. Harry had napped and woken twice by sunset, and Remus was still asleep. Harry stole to his bedroom door and stood there, looking for the reassurance of his chest rising and falling against the light of the evening in the facing window. Seeing that, finally, he turned to go back to the kitchen.

"Harry."

Harry froze. Abashed, he slipped just inside the room. "Sorry. I didn't mean to wake --"

"Come here."

Remus didn't move, but he spoke firmly, and Harry's heart sunk. He was going to be told off, obviously. He'd had probably pushed too hard and presumed too much on Remus when he was vulnerable, and Remus was upset about having said all those things. Slowly, he slunk forward to the bedside.

As soon as he was there, Remus lifted his head. "That's my boy," he said softly. "Don't make me chase you now -- I haven't the energy."

Harry smiled in relief and sat down on the edge of the mattress. "I'm right here."

"So I see."

In an unbelievable fast movement, Remus seized Harry's wrist and shoulder and yanked him down, making Harry yelp in surprise. He tumbled to his elbows and hips, only to find himself rolled over and pinned by the older man. The covers bunched awkwardly between them.

"I hope you don't mind," Remus growled. "But after a _month _of non-stop restraint, not to admit to the more-than-occasional guilty fantasy, I _don't _feel like dancing around. I want you, at _least _as much as you thought, understood?"

Harry nodded, squirming with pleasure at the thought of guilty fantasies. "I'm up for it," he said boldly. "Anything. Want you too."

Remus descended with a soft sigh, and kissed him with perfect care -- a lengthy, elaborate kiss that Harry thought might well have topped his previous years of sexual experience. When Remus had finished teaching Harry's lips and mouth and tongue all the things they might aspire to do, he pushed off of him. Harry found himself looking dizzily up at Remus, who was supporting himself one elbow, watching him with a hungry stare.

"Stand up."

"What?" _He can't be pushing me away, _Harry thought desperately. _Not now._

"Stand _up. _I want you to take your clothes off and show me your body." Remus made a face. "You've seen all of _mine_, and I expect yours is far sexier." He pushed at Harry. "Do as you're told, for once. It won't kill you."

"Oh." Relieved -- too relieved for much embarrassment -- Harry stood and pulled off his shirt. Remus let out a soft moan, startling Harry into meeting his eyes. Deliberately, Remus licked his lips, and the blush that Harry had kept away before wouldn't stay down at that.

"Oh, yes," Remus said softly. "Shyer, now that I'm more than half-conscious, aren't you? Keep going, love. Show me what you've got."

_What I have is definitely ready for full display, at that,_ Harry thought. Deliberately, he kept eye contact as he unzipped his jeans and pushed down first on one side, then the other, to shift them off his hips. It was Remus who broke the contact, his attention visibly trailing the denim down. His eyes half-closed before rising again in challenge as Harry stepped free of the jeans.

_"Excited, _Harry? You want more?"

"God, yes!"

"Come here, then. Get under the covers with me."

It was oddly like his fantasy, except that he wasn't in control, now. Remus clearly had his own desires and his own plans, which made him far more thrilling than anything Harry could dream up while wanking. Harry squirmed under the covers and felt hands on him immediately, one exploring his chest while the other curled around his back and pulled him closer.

"You feel good." A leg hooked over his, bringing their bodies into full contact. "I'm not recovered yet, though. You're still responsible for anything energetic, and it will be at least another day before I can lend any credence to reports of the vigor and endurance of werewolves."

"Are werewolves supposed to be, um...?"

Remus chuckled. "You really _should _learn to research, you know."

"Oh, but I much prefer hands-on learning," Harry shot back. In recognition of the double-entendre, he reached down between them to wrap a hand around Remus's cock. Remus was facing him, and that, more than variations in shape or even the lack of feedback, made it frighteningly clear that he was touching another man.

"Have at it, then." Remus bucked into his loose grip. "But not too much. I want you in my arse when I come."

_"What?"_

"Please, love?" Remus rolled over onto his back, pulling Harry on top of him. "I'm tired, but if you hold my legs up, I can manage it."

"Um ... sure."

Harry thought this was going to be a little harder to fake than the other way around. The magazines had showed men already doing this, so he was fairly sure he knew the _position _Remus intended, but Charlie had said something about men needing to be relaxed more than girls, and since Ginny hadn't required _anything, _he wasn't sure how that was done. Assuming a confident air, he slid a hand between Remus's parted legs and stroked the fingers up the space between his cheeks.

"God." Remus twisted to grab the lubrication potion -- in the same place as last month -- off the table, and hold it out to Harry. When Harry extended his hand, he poured a tiny amount out on to his fingers and more onto his palm. The bottle was followed by his wand, and the lotion by a quick charm. "Smoothing charm," he explained. "Odd one. Go straight to two fingers -- honestly, you can probably go right _in,_ if you want. I've been awake for nearly twenty minutes, and just _waiting _for you to come back."

"Wish I'd known," Harry commented. He slid his slicked fingers back until he found where they would go in. It wasn't quite where he had expected -- angles could do that. The sides of the hole pressed hard against his fingers, but there was room. "Didn't expect you to be so eager."

"And I thought you'd be more innocent."

Harry laughed. _If he says I can go right in, why don't I? _Deliberately, he slid his hands up Remus's legs, raising them to settle the feet on his shoulders. He paused to brush a hand down the light curls up one shin before pushing forward to breech that opening again. He watched Remus drop his head back, eyes closing, as the tight muscle slowly squeezed down his cock. "What," he challenged, struggling to make his voice into words. "You think I've done this before?"

Remus's eyes shot open. "What --?"

"Too late now." He was all the way in, now. All the way, and starting to pump slightly, even though he knew it might be too much. "You're so good ... so _tight _... smell so good...."

"Oh yes." Remus, far from being horrified, was watching him with a taut hunger. "I'll show you all sorts of good things, Harry. Anything you might want."

"Yeah?" Harry couldn't hold back a flash of resentment. "And will you talk to me at parties?"

"Be grateful if I don't pull you into the perfectly manicured bushes at those insipid parties."

"I still have an invisibility cloak."

Remus could respond to that with nothing but a wordless cry of lust. Harry thought the idea might have merit, but for now, all he could do was try to control his body enough not to leave bruises. Remus made no objection to how fast and hard he was hammering forward. Harry was in a mindless haze by the time he heard Remus cry out, and the clenching grip around his cock was the first sensation he'd distinguished in some unknown age. The next one was a pinch and twist on his nipples that should have made him scream, but instead made him _scream _as he went over the edge, the world blackening around the edges as he lost everything but pleasure.

  


A minute later, or perhaps two, Harry lay limply on the mattress. A deceptively delicate hand eased the hair back from his face.

"Stay with me, tonight?"

Harry wasn't sure he would have noticed the trepidation in that before, but he could hear it now -- the subtle uncertainty of someone who was never sure of where he stood.

"I'd love to," he said. He kissed at the fingers that were still hovering by his face. "And a lot more nights, I hope."

"You're accumulating secrets."

It took Harry a moment to understand that, and when he did, he raised himself enough to look Remus in the eyes. _"Not _secret," he said. "I'd hate that."

"People will give you trouble."

"I'm used to trouble." Harry glared at him. "Are you afraid?"

"Of course not!" Remus said, so indignantly that Harry grinned.

"I'll dare you to kiss me, if I have to."

"You won't have to."

  


They settled back on the bed, touching sleepily. Harry knew they'd need food soon, and Remus would sleep more, and there would be Ron and Hermione to deal with -- Ron, perhaps, the first time he ragged him about the strip club -- but it would all work out. For now, he would spend his first night ever sleeping with someone else. He laughed to himself at the thought of wolves. _Well, the first time ever with another human._


End file.
